Built for Revenge
by TangeloDawn
Summary: An unorthodox elleth's journey in fulfillment of her mother's dying wish, erecting a kingdom only to raze it to the ground. Once a testament to the marvels of the elves, the kingdom of Daerven lies buried by ages of ash and snow, its fiery demise burned into only the memories of the oldest and wisest of Greenwood the Great. Pre-Hobbit. Slow Burn.
1. Prologue

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 _Prologue_

It wasn't that the commemoration of a newly established settlement wasn't of importance.

It just perhaps might have been more meaningful if the settlement had actually been established. As far as I was concerned, it was still composed of a bunch of unhewn rock. And a few kegs of wine too, to postpone the actual setting up of the settlement with a premature celebration.

But of course it was still _important_ , especially when one of the most hailed participants was going to be yours truly. It was just a matter of not boring myself and company any more than the inevitable.

I had been traveling with a division of elves from Greenwood the Great for the past month, and not voluntarily either. We had supposedly arrived at our destination, but I couldn't tell what made this particular patch of snow any nicer than the next. The elves traveling together were all garbed in grey cloaks to deflect against the elements, an undulating, indistinguishable mass. The cloaks swallowed any differentiation of power, status, or wealth.

And then there was me. The only thing that the cloaks couldn't hide was the naïvety of an elf who had never seen so much frozen water in the same place, and had little experience navigating it.

I was just beginning to totter over a frozen rock when a heavy hand clapped down on my shoulder, causing me to start with a few choice words and plenty of windmilling. " _Muinthel_ **[Sister]**."

There was a brief silence as I waited for him to continue. Finally I can't resist a, "Are you sure of that, Camaethor?", glancing at my brother through the corner of my eye.

Camaethor's eyes narrow slightly as he processes my remark, "Sometimes I wish I wasn't."

He turns his back to my indignation, and instead addresses the crags and crests that jut out of the land like misshapen teeth.

"Think, _muinthel_ ," He murmured reverently, though it seemed more to himself than me. Camaethor surveyed the desolate panorama as though it was some grand conquest, his chin raised and hair streaming behind him in the wind. I half expected minstrels to appear just to play dramatic music for him. "A guest of honor at the birth of a new Elven kingdom, with the earth and the Valar as witnesses. A legacy to stand for eternity."

The corner of my lips quirked up, "Yes, may this moment forever be treasured by these spectating frozen rocks," I bit back sardonically.

Cold silence was Camaethor's only reply, his distain drifting toward me on the chillier still mountain gales.

I sighed through my nose, my shoulders hunching under the barrage of icy winds and stifling loneliness. At least Camaethor still had some semblance of adventurous spirit, even if it was somewhat risible. My passion had been drained out of founding Daerven, and drew me toward just about anywhere else. I just had to survive the Grand Opening ceremony. And develop the literary genius demanded of having to phrase 'thank you' a couple hundred times while I was there.

Someone called for the caravan to gather, and a sea of light grey cloaks silently glided around me. I wiggled my toes, feeling the smooth coldness of snow. If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine it was the stone tiling that floored Mirkwood.

But no, the snow was different. It formed a kind of pricking sensation that notified me of its presence, but not quite like discomfort. A tingling, perhaps. It was the kind of cold that slowly seeped all the way to the bone. I opened my eyes, realizing that my heat had melted the snow and that it was literally soaking through my shoes. I gingerly stepped forward to hear what was being said, leaving the smallest of puddles behind me, that quickly froze over.

At the back of the crowd, there was little to hear. The speech turned into a patience seminar, and I counted my heartbeat as I squinted at the overcast sky. There were no celestial bodies to mark the time, so I tried to make out the movements of the clouds to the ticking of my heart. It was no use; they were all an amorphous grey blur, as though the Valar had smeared charcoal across the sky. There was little difference between the sky and the elves and the oppressive atmosphere.

I stared at the clouds until my eyes glazed over, letting the frigidness drive a shiver just beneath my skin. Grey… like the Grey Havens? My vision of the clouds suddenly sharpened as I studied them more closely.

Was she there? Perhaps she did not make it.

I whispered an apology under my breath.

 _I'm sorry, Naneth_ **[Mother]** _._

The least I could have done was stayed. My vision began to swim, and I looked away from the clouds with an irate sigh. I pinched my nose and shut my eyes as weariness drained the fight out of me.

I gulped in a breath of air, but I didn't resist as the memory pulled me under.

* * *

 _I lazily nocked an arrow, pizzing the bowstring to make the arrow bounce._

 _"Hwimmith may I speak with you?" I suddenly straightened into a perfect archer's posture as though a rod had been shoved down my spine, making me quiver slightly. I slowly turn to face my father, hoping there was nothing incriminating about my expression. To my unease, my father's face was grim._

 _"Whatever you may blame upon me, is the fault of someone of higher rank than I." I blurted automatically, racking my memory for my latest callous deed. The frown on Ada's face deepened._

 _"Your faults are not what I wish to discuss." He purses his lips, in deep thought. After a second of hesitation, he ordered, "Come… come walk with me," gesturing towards the door leading outside. I set my bow down, and follow, but not without my own moment of deliberation._

 _I step out into the courtyard. The sky is clear enough to see stars, but the air is crisp and frosty. "What is it that you want us to discuss?" I ask timidly._

 _"I wish not so much as to discuss as to inform," My father stated firmly, pausing to stare at the moon peeking through the trees, "I have decided that it would be best if we joined the expedition to Daervan in a week."_

 _"Wha-" The rest of the sentence was torn away by the wind. The icy breeze shoot straight through my chest, and I swallowed a mouthful of bile. "Father… I- you- I just..."_

 _He continued to study the moon._

 _"You can't be serious." I argued, almost trying to convince myself._

 _Silence._

 _Empty, heavy, uncaring acquiescence._

 _There was a heavy beat of tension as I processed the information._

 _I felt a heat race to combat the cold gripping my chest. I clenched my fists, "This is ludicrous!" I snapped, "I've grown up here! I- My friends, my home- Imizael is like a sister to me!" I was grasping at straws, trying to think of something that would mean more to him. Status? Wealth?_

 _"Father you-! How-?"_

 _I sighed through my teeth, glaring at the moon, which gazed back with the same apathy as my father._

 _He continues to stare at the moon. The coward couldn't even look me in the eye. "The tree that stands firm is the first one to break in the storm," he says. "You must be flexible."_

 _"But a when a tree's roots are deep, there is no reason to fear a storm." My fingernails dug into my palm, "And what if it's a fire?" I snapped scornfully._

 _My father lowered his head to study the tiled stones. "But there is reason to fear, a shadow has been cast upon this wood, I fear the shadow an ill omen of the times to come. Danger is nigh, and I wish to leave ere it comes."_

 _"So you wish to flee? Is that it? What is it you fear?" Angry crescents had been indented in my palms._

 _"I-"_

 _"Is it not the 'cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek'?" I sneer, playing at his cryptic philosophies._

 _"It is and it is for that reason we leave in the Season of Bloom, so you can enter your cave and find the treasure you seek." My father droned, recovering his detached disposition, "This place haunts you, too many foul memories dwell here. They hold you back. You can be free of them."_

 _"I am fr-"_

 _"As you mature I also wish for you to see more of Middle Earth. There are wonders far beyond Greenwood the Great. This is an incredible opportunity that many do not see throughout their lifetimes."_

 _"And you didn't think to consult me? Or did you just tell me now as an afterthought?" I grumbled under my breath, "Did you even think of me?" He'd hardly even seen me since..._

 _I straightened suddenly,_ _Since... "Naneth. **[Mother]** "_

 _Ada stiffened._

 _I snarled, digging into the wound. "So you want to flee? Just leave her? Fine. Go. Be_ free _."_

 _I shook my head slightly as he finally turned toward me. I glared into his vacuous eyes, "Of course. There is_ nothing _here for us."_

 _There was a strangled choking sound as Ada opened his mouth. He closed it, swallowing and looking away._

 _"This is not something you can change, Hwimmith, only accept. You can choose to make it difficult, but do not blame me. It is time you learned some independence. I-"_

 _"I'm hardly dependent on you! I've grown since the last time you saw me. I'm no elfling! Although you may not remember since last we spoke."_

 _"You say yourself that you are dependent on this place. It will do you well to be free of it."_

 _"There is nothing to be free of! All the demons here are your own."_

 _"Hwimmith!" Ada shouted, his pupils dilated slightly as he tensed._

 _I was startled into silence, before the temptation to goad him caused me to open my mouth._

 _Ada held up a hand, his voice betraying a hint of weariness. "I do not wish to argue with you further." He turned toward the moon once more, still avoiding my critical gaze. "I take my leave." He strode away, his hands folded behind his back._

 _I was left standing frozen stiff in the courtyard, the cogs in my brain churning together what this meant. An uncomfortable chill ran down my back and the night air suddenly seemed almost balmy._

* * *

I hadn't realized he was being literal about seeking the cave. Apparently the ceremony would be held in one. There was just a shortage of treasure...or living things in general.

A silence sealed my lips as I mused over my father's previous words to me.

I had chosen acceptance over change.

It was not just Ada who had left Naneth behind, I had as well. And while I'm listing betrayals, Camaethor had too.

But… independence? Was that what he wanted from me?

My hands curled into fists. I watched as red pockmarks formed on my palm, just the same as that day I was told to leave.

Independence was not so bad.


	2. Being Eternally Young Sucks

To go back to the beginning…

 _-One Month Ago, Greenwood the Great-_

There was a certain ease of speaking that didn't come to me. It was the sort of thing I should have perfected over centuries. And the problem with that is it can be further perfected over millenniums, let alone eras.

See, this is the problem with living surrounded by immortal beings: you're a set amount of time and practice behind them, and you stay that way. Forever.

I'd like to think that I don't need fluency when I'm exceptionally well versed in the universal tongue. Not Common, though I'm sure a few fragments of that are shoved in some dark recess of my brain. Not music either. In fact music and manipulation are stored right next to each other; the only strings I pull are bowstrings.

There's something about the point of an arrow that seems to send a universal message. Or a solid left hook.

Don't get me wrong, hugs do too. Well not actually. Sometimes the dumber recipients mistake them for strangling attempts, and according to Imizael, they have perfectly good reason when I'm dishing them out.

Unfortunately, the only species on Middle Earth that does not understand the Universal Tongue are noblelves. They prefer the ostentatious tergiversation that is an awful waste of time and saliva.

I assure you, they don't have a shortage of either.

Hence, my Plan B, which seems to be better understood by my fellow Elvenkind.

1\. Find Imizael.

2\. Have her do all the talking.

3\. Smile and nod.

4\. Eat.

It worked for every dinner party and I didn't have to say more than the occasional 'hello' and 'thank you', or give any hugs.

Unfortunately, _Ada_ had become weary of this pattern and took it upon himself to ruin it tonight. He did the same to most of the good things in my life.

When we entered the Grand Hall, or I should say when he entered and dragged me along, it was filled to the brim with a gaggle of elven nobility. I internally groaned. Too many potential annoyances.

Before I could execute the first phase of Plan B, _Ada_ grabbed my wrist.

"This is your final opportunity to become acquainted with some of my colleagues." He said, plastering on a smile that seemed to say _you had better smile too_ , "Come, let me introduce you."

It amused me that he even bothered to phrase that as an offer, because he had a grip of iron and had not loosened it in the slightest.

"Lady Aerwyn, if I may borrow you for a moment," _Ada_ approached a stately nobleelf who peered down her nose at me. She had a mouth that seemed to be incapable of anything besides tilting down, a back that was ramrod straight, and eyes that had crease marks from being narrowed all the time.

"Talandren," She said, addressing _Ada_ , "It has been a while. Is this your daughter?"

"Yes. Lady Aerwyn, Hwimmith. Hwimmith, this is Lady Aerwyn. She-"

He lost me right around there. I found _Ada_ fit into Plan B like a droning, cranky Imizael. As long as he was with me, I could still just smile and nod and let him do all the talking.

At some point in time, someone had brought me a drink and I had had it refilled far too many times. It became an incredible conversation filler when _Ada_ was preoccupied with another conversation.

"Ah," Sip. "Yes." Sip. "Most interesting." Sip. "It was a delight speaking with you, Miss…" I gulped down the entire glass, trying to remember who I was talking to. "It was a delight, Miss." I flashed _Ada_ 's most recent ancient 'colleague' a smile with all my teeth.

She gave a sort of _humph_ that I had never heard come out of an elf's mouth before, deigning to find another poor soul to torture with her philippic against younger folks.

After countless conversations about the weather and how much I'd grown, my eyes were drooping and I had to keep disguising yawns as chuckles or coughs. Unfortunately, _Ada_ seemed to think that after all my experience with the lesser nobles, I was ready to be introduced to someone of higher rank.

He really should learn that no matter how high you jump, you'll always return to the ground. And no matter how many times a Hwimmith is introduced to a new aristocrat, the conversation will always go down in flames.

"Hwimmith, I have had the honor of having been acquainted with the Elders of Greenwood in the past decade, perhaps you may learn from their vast experience."

"Mmm…" I hiccuped in disagreement.

"I remember when Thranduil was appointed king. Oh he was so young then! Look what he has accomplished." One of them said with a far off look in her eyes.

"You weren't even born when the war of Elves and Sauron shook Middle Earth. Terrible tragedy really. You're lucky child, you were born into an era a peace." Drawled another, as though each syllable deserved its own moment.

"Your grandfather was a wee elfling when the Sindarin Elves fought Morgoth," A noble intoned with his fingers steepled, "The Battles of Beleriand they were called." He blinked the slowest blink I had ever seen. I almost thought he had fallen asleep. "Ilúvatar was so angry he sunk Beleriand into the sea."

I let out a colossal yawn as _Ada_ struggled to keep me upright. Elves don't generally feel the need to sleep, but just then I was ready to drop.

"Wake up, Hwimmith!" He snarled in my ear.

"Ungh…" I groaned, wrinkling my nose. "Has dinner even started yet?"

 _Ada_ glared at me, "There is one more elf I would like you to meet."

So… no.

"Crown Prince Legolas, if I may bother you, this is my daughter Hwimmith." That woke me up.

The Crown Prince? His name sounded kind of familiar. Maybe Imizael had mentioned it before.

"A pleasure to meet your acquaintance," I droned for the seven hundredth time that night, my words laced with sarcasm. It was subtle enough that _Ada_ , being ancient, didn't detect it. The Crown Prince had probably heard it enough to know it was the most common lie around here.

 _Ada_ squeezed my arm slightly.

"...ah, _Your Highness_." I forced the title through gritted teeth.

The Crown Prince remained impassive, "And a... pleasure to meet yours."

That was it. Imizial had brought him up when talking about her hit list for elves she wanted to attach a free hugs sign to. What'd she call him? Lost Legs.

 _Ada_ gave me a strained smile and a stiff nod, "I will leave you to get acquainted. I'm afraid I promised Aerwyn I'd catch up with her on her recent travels."

No no no no no.

He dipped his head to the Lost Legs, who returned the favor.

Nononononono.

I watched _Ada'_ s retreating back as my last hope for Plan B vanished.

"You look just like your father," I mimicked what the other nobles had told me, hoping my awful attempt at conversation would remind him of some urgent duty to call him away immediately.

He raised an eyebrow, before it registered that I was probably younger than him and my comment was far out of place.

Oh well, it was my last day after all

"Your father was the Spawn of Ungoliant right?" I pointed to my eyebrows, poking them and leaning forward to inspect his, "Dark and hairy… Yep, definitely runs in the family." I blurted out the line before I could help myself. It was the liquor I swear.

Lost Legs was Lost for Words.

"So, assuming since you've been brought before me last, you must be the older than Morgoth," I gestured in the generally direction of the Elder who had fought in the Battles of Beleriand, "What shall we discuss? What you and Ilúvatar talked about before Middle Earth was created?" I strutted before him, gesticulating wildly.

His Majesty at least had the sense to shut his mouth, which had been slightly agape.

I shrugged, pivoted, and strutted out of the room, leaving him to ponder how he could've responded.

* * *

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	3. My Mom's a Dead Stalker

I was feeling quite high and mighty. It wasn't every day that an elf, scratch that, anyone quipped at the Crown Prince's expense and got away with their head. I found it quite the exclusive sport, and refreshing too. I smiled genuinely for the first time that night, and I knew if Imizael was with me she'd take one look at my smile and generate excuses for whatever crime I had committed.

My rare moment of self fulfillment was short lived.

Instead of Imizael, it was _Ada_ who had to appear. I had forgotten he was temporarily standing in her place tonight, according to Plan B. At the moment though, I really hoped he was a figment of my drunken imagination.

"How did your conversation with the _Crown Prince_ fair?" He inquired, with a little too much emphasis on Lost Legs's title.

I flashed a saccharine smile, "It went wonderfully, absolutely wonderfully."

For me, that is.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, but I'm inclined to believe that you're hiding something. Would you be so kind as to share what you've done?"

"Me? Do something? Never." I let out my best flabbergasted gasp. I paused for a moment as Ada narrowed his eyes. I tapped my chin, "Well, we did have a lovely conversation."

I could tell _Ada_ was trying very hard not to roll his eyes. "Hwimmith, you and that troublemaker Imizael have a less than spotless record."

I batted my eyelashes a couple times, ever the angel when times called for it.

"And you only ever smile like that when you've done something at someone else's expense."

My smile evaporated, and I hoped _Ada_ would follow suit. When he didn't, I batted my eyelashes a few more times with a grumpy frown.

 _Ada_ ignored my mocking show of innocence, "So Hwimmith, I will ask again." He paused, and gave me his best ' _don't you dare lie to me_ ' glare. He reiterated, "How did your conversation with the Crown Prince fair?"

"It went wonderfully, absolutely wonderfully." I mimicked myself, tossing in a besotted sigh for dramatics.

"Hwimmith..." _Ada_ 's voice dropped to a low warning growl.

"If you already know what I said, which we wouldn't be having this conversation if you didn't, then there really is no purpose to us talking right now." I snapped, shrugging, "I have someone to catch up with. I have connections too, you know."

Well, I had Imizael. So ' _connection_ ', singular, I guess.

Ada grabbed my wrist firmly and dragged me into hallway, "Come with me."

I can walk perfectly fine, but for some reason _Ada_ had a fondness of dragging me everywhere. That was the second time tonight.

His eyes darted up and down the hall, scanning for prying ears.

"What were you thinking, mocking the Crown Prince _and_ the King?!" I didn't know it was possible before, but he somehow managed to snarl and whisper at the same time. "If my ears do not deceive me, 'Your father was the spawn of Ungoliant, right?'"

"I meant it as a jab to Ungoliant."

His fist slammed into the wall, making me jump. That was a first, _Ada_ had never lashed out because of anger.

I felt my impudence slowly draining, "Do tell who's been feeding you information," I probed, remembering how he had walked out of earshot, "Perhaps your 'ears' _do_ deceive you." An unwelcome hint of wariness tinged my voice.

"Hwimmith, you cannot do things like that and not expect consequences." He glared at me, straight in the eye. I fought to keep my gaze level.

"You've long lost the right to reprimand me about consequences." I snarked, "The worst I can do is end up with _Naneth_ instead of you. You trust your rat more than you trust your own daughter."

"I do trust them more," _Ada_ furrowed his brows, scratching his chin in a poor imitation of me, "There's just something about a room full of nobles all glaring and a turning their backs that seems to send a universal message." He whirled about in a storm of robes and temper before marching back into the party.

So this was the game.

I tapped my finger against the wall methodically, as I mulled over our altercation. I counted a long sixty beats before daring to re enter the Grand Hall.

I slipped in the door, headed for the refreshments table. The crowd parted around me, and somehow managed to do so with their backs turned. Their disgust was almost tangible. _Ada_ had been swallowed by the crowd, leaving me to drown in my shame. My cheeks felt hotter than a Balrog.

I decided shame didn't suit me. What shame? I traded glares with the averted eyes of the nobleelves around me. What made their precious prince so much better than any other elf? There would be little shame to be had if I had insulted some lesser noble.

I swept out of the room, clutching a glass flute of golden liquor with trembling fingers.

I set the flute on one of the decorative stools in the hallway.

A gilded plate was hung above it, distorting my reflection. My face had finally returned to its normal pale complexion, but the plate made my nose look like a troll had squashed it, and my eyes were sloping and desperate.

All in all, my contorted reflection was quite consistent with how I felt.

I didn't remember drifting into another room, but soon I found myself before an arch covered with a tapestry of an ancient oak, its branches weaving in a sprawling tangle.

Imizael's quarters. Friendly territory.

But there was something about the thought of still more conversation that repelled me outside. The oak in the tapestry was at the fringes of Greenwood, and I hesitated when I found myself at the end of the last lit corridor. The lantern light cast flickering shadows on the trees beyond, and night had obscured the way ahead.

I wove through the woods, the path familiar. The oak was squeezed between two other trees, having been planted after them and grown beyond the expectation. I slipped off my shoes, feet sore from tramping through the undergrowth. Before I could rethink dirtying my dress, I plopped down under the tree, my hand lightly trailing along the ground. My fingers brushed against something smooth and cold, following the ridge of the tombstone, which I knew to be a graceful arch in the daylight. I rose to my knees as I placed my palm in the dirt, measuring out five hand lengths from the stone.

Dampness from the ground seeped through my dress and stained my hands as I began to claw at the dirt. There was nothing dainty about the task, but this was the last chance I would have to salvage something of _Naneth_ 's in case I was forced to leave her resting place.

Dirt clogged my fingernails as I snatched handfuls, feeling wet gunk sliding between my fingers.

The water table was high, and I knew it couldn't be buried very deep.

I was halfway to my elbows when my fingers finally scraped against something hard. I dusted it off to see faint gold inlaid in wood, glinting faintly in the sparse moonlight that filtered through the trees. I dug around it, finally heaving a small wooden box out of the ground. It was hardly larger than a jewelry box, and has the dull sheen of varnish.

I sighed in relief. It hasn't been found by any animal, and the coating had protected it from rotting. The clasp had rusted, and wouldn't open. I crawled under the tree until I found a small pebble, and I slammed it down on the thin clasp until it snapped. I opened the lid, careful to not let any dirt taint the insides. The sweet scent of fresh wood wafted out, the inside of the box still the fresh orange of just-cut timber.

There was a single scroll of paper inside, coiled tightly and sealed in beeswax. I held the scroll up to a shaft of light between the leaves, running my fingernail along the edge of the paper until the beeswax split and the scroll unfurled.

It was just a precaution, I told myself. I wasn't really planning on leaving tomorrow. Although, in all honesty, my potential trip to Daerven was a great excuse to satiate my curiosity.

My eyes flicked across the parchment. The ink was smudged occasionally, as though the letter had been written in a hurry. I squinted at it in the meager light, trying to make out the scrawled words.

No.

There was no way.

She had been… gone, when it was announced.

I read the letter again, wondering if the darkness had distorted the words.

But there was no mistaking my mother's words that ordered me onward to Daerven.

She was watching over me a bit too literally for my liking, as much as that admission made me guilty. The undergrowth had grown too thick for someone to have dug up the letter, and neither _Naneth_ nor I had breathed a word of its existence. _Naneth_ used to attend the high courts, and it is possible she had caught wind of it shortly before… before she had passed away.

But how would she know I'd dig it up in time to join the expedition?

I clutched the scroll to my chest as I battled a wave of confusion. Something about the letter repulsed me, as if the possibility of _Naneth_ still being so in tune with my life had made her death lose its air of mystery and reverence.

At least there was cause to go to Daerven now, although unease still twisted in the pit of my stomach.

There was only one person who had been close enough to _Naneth_ who might understand. I stumbled back into the building, determined to confront _Ada_ and demand an explanation. But I hesitated outside of the entrance to the Grand Hall, knowing as soon as I rounded the corner the festivities would still be in full swing.

I needed to carefully rearrange my mask, although it had become significantly more difficult to conceal emotions after _Naneth_ 's passing.

 _smile._ I commanded myself.

 _no._

 _Smile._ I tried again.

 _No._

 _SMILE._

 _NO._

I sighed in frustration and grabbed my cheeks, forcing my lips to slide over my teeth. I held my mouth there until my cheeks had once again turned an angry red but now stung from my pinching. My teeth ground together, but my mouth stayed up in a psychotic crescent.

The idea of a room full of hostile nobleelves made me reconsider. Word traveled fast enough that for all I knew, I could have 'wanted' branded on my forehead by now. I didn't even know if _Ada_ was still inside.

I turned on my heel and swiftly walked away, keeping my awful grimace plastered in place. I made my way to a different wing, back to the arch with the tapestry of the oak. I hadn't seen Imizael at the party, and really, since I hadn't hauled her out, she had no reason to attend. I desperately hoped she wasn't out.

I stopped in front of a tapestry of an ancient oak once more, hesitating. I inspected the tangle of branches, wondering if the tapestry had been woven further if there'd be an equally massive network of roots.

There had to be, for so many mysteries to be buried out of sight.

* * *

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	4. Imizeal Threatens To Kill Me

The tapestry was swept aside and a familiar face poked out, much to my relief. It started with a sharp nose, then sharp cheekbones, and even sharper eyes, which took in the disheveled mess that was my gown and my emotions with a swift up and down.

Imizael raised a brow, "Gone digging?"

I found no use, or reason, to deny it. "I know where I've been."

"Well, at least this is just a smudge compared to the time you were sporting a raccoon in your hair and a tree snagged in your dress." She said exaggerated cheer.

"I recall none of that." I snapped.

"No, of course you don't."

We spent a long moment just staring at each other, and I was on the verge of impatiently tapping my foot. Finally I broke the silence. "Are you going to invite me in?"

"Ever the subtle one, Raccoon Head," Imizael barked a laugh, "And in your current state? I think not."

I felt my eye twitch, "It's the dress, isn't it. Not up to your immaculate standards?"

Imizael crossed her arms, "Immaculate standards? I prefer basic hygiene and you need to change in order to maintain even that. I have a party dress rotting in the back of my closet, you can wear. "

Knowing Imizael tendency to 'forget' parties, the dress was probably literally rotting. So much for hygenien standards.

"You're making me change in the hallway?"

A devious smile graced Imizael's face.

" _Not_ giving you ideas, Lady Hygiene"

"Fine, fine. Get in here," Imizael waved me in, "And mind my door."

I glanced at the tapestry, "I wove part of it too, you know."

"Of course. Half of it looks like a Warg regurgitated it."

I rolled my eyes.

"The only reason it only has my signature on it is because you are the singularly worse seamstress in all the Woodland Realm, and yours isn't needed to identify it."

"Well you still claimed it and put it up as your door."

"Think of it as a sacrifice for our friendship."

Imizael ushered me inside with a bit of extra _oomph_ , as she prevented me from sitting anywhere, "You know where the bath is. Unless you want someone else to see you, you'll have to draw the bath yourself. And if you do, you'll have to be sneaky navigating the halls." She smirked. "Guess you're stuck in that for life."

It didn't matter much, but I figured I might as well draw the bath myself. There was no need for stealth. My reputation was already tarnished, if it had existed in the first place, and plus I figured some extra tramping around with a bucket full of water wouldn't hurt. The weight felt nice in my hands, and acted as a bit of a substitute for the sword that normally accompanied me. In preparation for the party, I had been stripped of it, and I noticed myself lean slightly to the right to compensate for the 5th limb I was missing.

I sank into the bath with a colossal sigh, the night's events suddenly slamming into me. I let my muscles relax as they steeped in the hot water, feeling a bit like I was being slow cooked. There was a white robe next to the basin that I slipped on when I stepped out, the light material soft and cooling.

I gave the bath a long look, wondering if I had the strength to empty it. I decided I didn't. I'd be gone tomorrow anyway, it was Imizeal's problem not mine.

I sat with my head in my hands, watching water drip off the strands of my hair, unwilling to considering my situation. As soon as I faced Imizael I'd have to explain myself, and work out what everything meant. I was blissfully unconcerned with my decision for now, the consequences being too far off, but I knew I'd have to address it sometime or the niggling stress would eat me alive.

My moment of induced tranquility was interrupted by Imizael banging on the door, much to my vexation.

"At this rate, the ents would finish a ruminating about life before you get out of that bath!" She complained.

I grumbled and picked myself off the floor, flinging open the door to Imizael holding a scrap of fabric.

I gaped at what I think was a dress. The skirt had wilted, if it could even be called that, and the material had worn away to be almost see through. I gave Imizael a look, plopping into a cushioned nest and hugging my bathrobe tighter.

I let out a tired _ngh_ as the breath was knocked out of me at the same rate the cushions deflated.

In the silence that followed, my mind drifted back to the party. The sumptuous celebration roaring in the Grand Hall and heartfelt confessions passed between loved one was meant as a glorious farewell.

And the more lavish the going away, the more arduous the journey.

Besides, it was like bidding someone goodbye by showing them everything they'd be missing. I wouldn't miss the dinner parties in the slightest, but this…

I surveyed the room like a criminal condemned taking in the world one final time. Imizael was watching me expectantly as I avoided her gaze.

This was something I did not want to leave. There would be nothing I could bring, but myself and all the warm cloaks I could carry.

"I've decided to leave for Daerven."

There was a long pause.

Imizael and I both seemed to be waiting. Finally Imizael piped up, "Of course Hwimmith, it's not your birthday. There's only one party you could've come from tonight, and that's the sendoff for the Daerven expedition."

I nodded numbly.

"You could have told me a bit earlier," Imizael complained, but her eyes softened and she placed a soothing hand on my back, "Well? It was your father's idea, I presume?"

"Yeah. He only told me this week." I said, exasperated.

Imizael smiled, "So basically, your father thought 'hey, I haven't seen my daughter is a couple thousand years. Hmm… how could I get her to like me again? Oh, I know! I'll force her to tramp through ice and snow away from everything she's known on an expedition to settle Grey Mountains! I'm sure she'll love it.'"

I smirked. "Exactly."

We sat in a comfortable silence. It was only around Imizael that I could tolerate the quiet; where there was no need to fight reality away with a sharp tongue and defiance. Come to think of it, it was probably Imizael who had turned me so snappy and irascible. She was my only comfort after _Naneth_ 's passing, and I had bantered with her to keep from remembering my sorrow.

"When do you return?" she asked.

"Return?"

"Yes! You know, to go or come back to a place."

I rolled my eyes.

Imizeal continued. "It is within your power to march back to Greenwood the moment you reach Daerven. You could and say to your father: 'I came here just as you asked, and now I'm leaving. Bye.' Or you could not go at all. "

"Imizeal..." I paused. Immy sensed what I hadn't yet said and her smile fell.

"You're not coming back?" I could her the disbelief and denial in her voice. "Why?"

Told her about the letter.

"Wait it was your mother who told you to go? But, why?" Imizeal demanded.

"I am not entirely sure, but if Naneth wanted it, I am sure there is a good reason."

I felt a pang of sorrow, but I suppressed the feeling.

Imizael pulled me into a hug.

I instinctively pushed her away. Imizeal looked at me perplexed.

"I thought you were going to strangle me."

She laughed. "Racoon Head if I want to kill you, you'd be dead already. " Her tone was playfully sinister. "And don't worry, I can always have to do is hike up the Grey Mountains and visit you."

That made me smiled. "A death threat. Thanks Lady Hygiene, that makes me feel much better."

She just smiled.

A moment passed in another comfortable silence.

Then Imizael smirked, "You know what?"

I shot her a doubtful look, not sure if I wanted to know what.

"If you're leaving in a few days-"

"Tomorrow."

"Even better. This is your last chance to do it."

"Do what?"

"Anything," Imizael let a wicked grin cross her face, "Anything you've ever wanted to do." She glanced at me, "That is, if you're willing to take the blame."

I raised a brow questioningly, wondering exactly how naughty Imizael was thinking.

"Tomorrow you'll be hundreds of leagues from any grumbling nobles. Unless you spit on _Ada_ or any of the higher-ups there is not much they can do," Imizael grabbed my hands, "Don't you see? This is the best pranking opportunity of the century."

She paused and flashed me a devious smile. "And I have the perfect idea."


	5. When Life Gives You Barrels, You Make

After Imizael's proposal, I hesitated half a second.

It was half a second too long.

Imizael nodded once, sealing my fate. "Now that that's agreed, I've been wanting to do this for awhile." Imizael rubbed her hands together in anticipation.

I gave her a dubious look, already sensing my impending regret.

Seeing my expression, Imizael grinned, "Don't worry. We can't logically be blamed for this one."

As I listened to Imizael's reasoning I had to admit, this one was pretty safe in her standards.

And pretty brilliant.

I only wheezed out one complaint as Imizael hauled me outside, a torch in hand, "Why the food though? That's the only good part of the party."

Half an hour later, I found myself two stories underground, hunting for wine a thousand times older than I was.

Imizael had led me to a hallway behind the kitchen, which made me seriously question the places she'd been.

She unlocked a door that was so short it was almost a square, and refused to budge as though it hadn't been opened in the past millennium. A dank passageway unfurled beyond, and I glanced back toward the sounds of a bustling kitchen around the corner in longing. Imizael shouted as the light from her torch grew distant, and I plunged forward.

The way down was a steadily sloping path that I had to stoop and crawl to enter.

The cellar itself was humid and cold, with a pan of water in the center which had a strange tint, as though it hadn't been replaced in awhile. The ceiling was incredibly high, with wine barrels stacked to the top. Lines of light blue mould were beginning to creep down from the corners of the ceiling, and dust mites formed a thin film atop the numerous kegs.

A bit neglected, but still the right temperature and humidity.

Perfect for a few barrels to disappear unnoticed.

Not so perfect for an elf in a bathrobe. The dampness had made the soft material heavy, and my modesty was barely intact.

The door was as thick as my palm was wide, and Imizael leapt at the opportunity to hold it open while I was forced to roll out several barrels.

"You're as strong as a mountain and as swift as the wind, Raccoon Head." She grinned as I toppled over the barrels to the sound of splashing wine inside.

I grunted as I braced myself against the barrels, willing them to move, "And you're as lazy as a pig."

Outside, the stone walls were colored with various splotches of white and green rubbing off on my precious bathrobe. I got the feeling I really didn't want to know what was growing out of the walls, especially if they smelled like…

I scrunched my nose.

…like something I didn't want to know about.

"The Ceremonial Dinner could be starting any minute," Imizael snapped, gesturing to the four barrels we shoved outside the cellar, "Come on, take three barrels."

"Easy for you to say." I grumbled, eyeing the final barrel she would take.

The wooden barrels creaked in time to my protests as I pushed them up on a ramp. Mind you, the incline was hardly noticeable going down, but with the added burden of priceless wine stored in bulk for aging, the slight hill may well have been as steep as Caradhas.

Imizael breezed by me with an innocent smile, playfully kicking and skipping behind her barrel. She disappeared from my line of sight with whimsical laugh.

I cursed her under my breath, ramming my shoulder against my own kegs. They were wrapped with iron bands and reinforced with extra ropes, which made them all the heavier. Collectively, I could barely shove three simultaneously. I put my back to the kegs, using my feet as leverage to push them up a ramp.

I had to hug the wall so the barrels wouldn't roll to the side and go tumbling down the ramp. By the time the passageway widened into a kitchen hallway, my arms felt like twigs and were ready to snap at any moment. The ceiling wasn't sloping, but the ramp was, and I found my headspace increasingly disappearing, until it was nonexistent altogether. Overhead, criss-crossing wooden support beams were the only things keeping the underground passageway from collapsing.

I grinned in triumph as I gave the barrels one last shove and an awkward kick for good measure, which ended with me hitting my head on the ceiling and the barrels rolling right back at me. I frowned. They should have rolled up to the hallway behind the kitchen. The door was already open and freedom from my intense labor was staring me in the face.

I tried shoving again. The barrels didn't budge.

Stepping back a bit and letting the barrels roll back precious inches, I straightened so my head was pressed painfully against the wooden beams, looking over the barrels.

A doorstep?!

I groaned as I watched all my momentous progress derailed by an inch of stone. Who in their right mind puts a _doorstep_ in front of an exit to roll things through? I guess the nobleelves had to control their consumption somehow. It would have been an easy feat to roll over only one barrel, but _no_ , Imizael just had to have made me take three.

The roof was too low for me to lift an entire barrel, let alone three, without letting anything roll down. The extra bindings made the barrels bulkier than they already were anyways.

Of course a certain someone had no intent to warning me of the stupid step. I sat with my back to the barrels, slowly sliding forward as the weight kegs pushed against me. I straightened from where I sat and winced as my spine protested, having been curled for so long. I wondered how long it would take for Imizael to realize I wasn't coming. Minutes? Hours? Knowing Imizael, probably days. I would be waiting for awhile.

And I was not good at waiting.

I gently tapped my finger against the floor.

I gently tapped my finger against the barrels.

I not-so-gently tapped my head against the ceiling, having not-so-gently just kicked the barrels.

I glared at the ceiling, and then glared at my bathrobe, which had turned a mottled brown and green from its original white. To make matters worse, the kitchen's back hallway beckoned me to give up. It was almost worth getting caught. It would be so easy to just walk up there and tell Imizael to forget it; the ramp was plenty wide enough. Besides, she had just ditched me.

But there was no way I was letting all my hard work go downhill.

I pursed my lips.

And there was also no way I was going to spend my last day in Mirkwood sitting underground, stained with rat feces and mould.

I tottered to my feet as the barrels slipped a bit further. I pushed them back against the doorstep with an _umph_.

Fine, this is how it was.

I whipped out the sash tied around my bathrobe, hugging the scandalous garment tighter around myself with a self conscious glance toward the hallway. It was empty anyways, and rarely used.

I tugged on the ropes wrapped around the first barrel closest to me, which had slackened in the humid climate. I slipped my sash under a rope and tied it, praying it would hold fast. Stepping to the side, I slowly backed up the hallway, using my hand to pull on my sash so the first barrel wouldn't slide down. The tension on the sash increased as I reached the top of the ramp, the first barrel straining against its bindings and second barrels straining against the first.

I pulled the sash over one of the ceiling beams, which were so low I had to crawl on my knees. There was barely enough sash left to attach the final barrel nearest to the entrance. The rope outlined the top half of a triangle, with the barrels on each end of the base and the ceiling beam at the tip.

As soon as I let go, the first two barrels began to roll a few inches back down the ramp. Sure enough, their combined weight pulled the sash down, so it slid over the beam and raised the final barrel toward the ceiling.

I grinned with a satisfied _hrumph_ , reaching up to untie my sash and using my back to push the barrel over the doorstep. It fell with the most musical slosh of wine I had ever heard, rocking to the side of the exit.

A _twang_ ing sound alerted me that my sash wouldn't last much longer. I carefully worked my way down to the barrels, keeping the tension on my sash. I shoved them up and repeated the process for the second barrel, which landed with another slosh and the sound of my sash cracking, fraying at the edges. I frantically crawled down to the third barrel, my sash breaking just as I reached it.

I quickly braced myself behind the barrel, pushing it up with ease. I kicked it over the doorstep with a triumphant "ha!" and a surge of pride that made my stubbed toe totally worth it.

I tugged my bathrobe tight around me assuredly and sashayed into the hallway, on the brink of clicking my heels together in joy.

And then someone cleared their throat behind me.

* * *

 **Thank you to everyone who reviewed (and an apology that we could not respond earlier)! To Guest on the first chapter - the typo should be fixed now, glad you pointed that out.**

 **Who do you think caught her? ;)**


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